


One-on-One: Rematch

by lovehugsandcandy



Series: One-on-One [2]
Category: Ride or Die (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:01:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24870472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovehugsandcandy/pseuds/lovehugsandcandy
Summary: When Langston made it to Nationals, Ellie planned on spending the entire time studying in her room. It didn’t end up quite as planned.
Relationships: Colt Kaneko/Main Character (Ride or Die)
Series: One-on-One [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1799545
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

Ellie perched on the edge of her bar stool, hand locked around a glass of ice water, toes tapping nervously against the floor. _She never did this_.

The plan had _always_ been to use this time to study. Ingrid was psyched about their trip, chattering nonstop about the massive intercollegiate parties and the freedom to fraternize with the players. Ellie listened, dutifully; however, she had planned on avoiding it all, venturing out only for games and meals, living in her headphones and studying under the covers to dig into the obscure theorems and formulas required in upper-level classes.

But now?

She shifted in her seat, keeping the sliding door leading to the hotel lobby visible in the corner of her vision; she sat straighter when she saw familiar red-and-gold uniforms streaming through. Pivoting, she tracked their path, players filing through the hallway in clumps of two and three, lugging packed gym bags over broad shoulders. She waited, eyes narrowing, and finally, _there_. 

At the end of the line, gesturing pointedly at a piece of paper in front of him, she caught a familiar stride, long legs carrying a recognizable head of black hair and a pair of mischievous eyes. She hid a fond smile behind her glass. If there is anything she learned about Colt once he friended her on Picta, it was that he took the strategy behind the game more seriously than the actual game play. Whereas his teammates would be in the gym, perfecting bench presses and layups, Colt spent most of his time watching tape, designing play upon play that tactically attacked his opponents’ weaknesses. She internally wondered if he enjoyed the mental plotting more than being on the court.

He jabbed at the paper again, finger tracing an determined path as two other players listened intently. She tilted her head, trying to follow his path towards the elevators through the crush of the crowd as athletes, spectators, and cheerleaders, everyone flitting around in the buzz of finally being at the playoffs. Eventually, his gaze left the paper, and he glanced about; the smirk on his face when they locked eyes sent heat to her cheeks. 

She waited as he spoke to his teammates and then pushed his way through the crowd, eyes trained on her with every step. He stopped before her with a grin. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“You told me to meet you.”

“Do you always do what people tell you to?”

She had a thousand retorts on the tip of her tongue, ranging from sarcastic to flirty to downright indecent, but before her brain settled on one, a harsh voice cut through the lobby. “Kaneko! What are you doing? Let’s go!”

He glanced behind him, face pulling into a frown, but turned back again, pressing thin plastic into her palm.

“What’s this?”

“1512.”

“What?” She looked down to find a hotel key.

“1512.”

She blinked. “Is this an open invitation?”

“It’s whatever you want it to be.”

Oh my God, she didn’t know if she wanted to smack the smirk off his face or kiss it.

“Kaneko, let’s go!” He sighed, and the frown on his face was a curious mix of haughty and regretful.

“You gonna come?”

“I…” she glanced behind him, where the rest of his team crowded around the elevator.

He smirked and leaned down, hands warm even through her jeans, breath whispering over her lips. “Just come on. Open invitation, ok?”

Her eyes fluttered. He was so close that she saw each individual lash surrounding his eyes, trace his tongue dipping out to wet his lower lip. She had to focus, tighten her fingers so her drink didn’t plummet to the floor. “Ok.” She could do nothing but agree, not when he looked at her like that.

His answering grin made her stomach swoop as he straightened, shooting her a wink before he turned to jog back to his teammates.

Shaking her head, Ellie turned back around to place her glass on the bar. _What was she thinking?_

~~~~~

“You sure you don’t wanna go out?”

“No thanks, I’m good.” Ellie read the same sentence over again. _When the uncertainty in a particle’s position is multiplied by the uncertainty in momentum, its value cannot be greater than half H-bar._ She frowned; this was why she hated particle dynamics. You can’t tell both the speed and location of a particle simultaneously? She internally scoffed. _Bullshit_. She had always known exactly where she was going. Langston University, 4 years. PhD program at Yale, 6 years, followed by a postdoc before moving back to LA for a tenure-track research position. She had detailed out this path the day she won her seventh-grade science fair; in the years since, she had never wavered, never veered. _Why was it so hard to do that with particles?_

“Really, El?” Ingrid ducked out of the bathroom to study her, fiddling with an earring. “You seem...off.”

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

Ellie sighed; she wouldn’t have been convinced either. “I’m good, really.” Her hands tightened around the textbook in her lap. “We have a game tomorrow night. I’m just gonna study and go to sleep early.”

“Ok. I’ll be quiet when I come back.” Ingrid grinned wickedly. “ _If_ I come back.”

Ellie flushed but didn’t reply, only giving a quick wave as her roommate headed out the door. She read the sentence again. _What was Planck’s constant again?_ She should know this by heart; she shouldn’t be so jittery, fidgeting and glancing at her purse every three seconds. It was there, a tiny rectangle nestled between flash cards and a folded-up game schedule; for a cheap strip of plastic, it was distracting, calling to her, a siren song far more compelling than quantum mechanics.

_Fine_.

She stood, closing the book and silently tucking it under her covers. Ingrid’s footsteps faded down the hall, followed by the ding of the elevator and then blessed silence. Ellie knew exactly where she was going and how fast; a quick detour to the room of a blindly attractive basketball player wouldn’t change anything. Quickly, she stripped, bundling her pajamas under her bed on the off chance she wasn’t home before Ingrid, throwing on street clothes and triple-checking her purse for the plastic key card. It gleamed, reflecting the light as if taunting her, conspicuously out of place among the detritus of her carefully crafted life.

He was two floors above her but she took the stairs, cautiously listening before turning the corner between floors. Thankfully, it was silent; apparently the parties were somewhere else tonight, even the hallway deserted as she walked, never-ending carpet empty and dulling her steps as she sidled up to the door. 

1512\. She stood for a minute, heart hammering in her chest, before gathering every speck of courage; her fingers shook as she put the key in the slot. The light turned green, and, with a tiny ding, she was in.

She pushed the door open, peering curiously inside before she stepped forward, but it was just a normal room, the mirror image of hers and Ingrid’s. The walls were drab, painted a dull beige and decorated by inoffensive pastoral photographs that contrasted with the emerald carpet under her toes. There were two beds, one covered in clothes and a familiar red-and-gold jersey, facing a large flat screen. It was almost exactly the same as her room. The only notable difference was standing in front of the window, phone to his ear; however, he obviously wasn’t focused on the conversation, not with the way his mouth hung open, gaping at her.

She waved, and her awkward hands closed the door behind her.

“Hey, yeah.” Colt spoke into the phone, rushed, low. “Ok.. Listen, I gotta-I gotta go… Yeah, yeah. Ok. Bye.” He turned to her but his phone rang almost immediately, shrill tone cutting the silence of the room; with an annoyed glance, he hit some buttons, randomly, and the phone went flying as he kept his eyes trained on her.

She stepped forward, letting out the breath it seemed she had held since she left her room. “Hi.”

“Hi.” The smirk was back, surprise all but gone as he watched her pad into the room. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Again,” she ground out, “you invited me.”

“I’m glad you took me up on the invitation.”

She dropped her purse on the bed that held the familiar uniform. “I was studying but got bored.”

“Ouch. You wound me.” She felt the sarcasm dripping from his words. “Had I known I was just a way to pass the time, I wouldn’t have given you a key.”

“You would have.”

“Maybe.” He stepped closer, smirk never wavering. “You come to give me my prize?”

“Your… your what?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I thought you were gonna give me a kiss if we won Nationals.”

“Excuse me?” she scoffed, mouth dropping open. “You haven’t won anything yet.”

“But we will. We’re 2-to-1 favorites. It would take a catastrophe for us to lose.”

Ellie knew all of this. She had been reading up on the playoffs and the predictions and the certain specific players whose breakout sophomore year included a 30 point victory when she was too focused on thermodynamic driving force to even notice the game unfolding. “Well, you haven’t won yet.”

“We will.”

“You just want me to kiss you.”

“Obviously.” He blinked and the warmth in his eyes softened, minutely, so subtly that she would have missed it had he not been merely a breath away. “You can call it a loan.” He blinked at her underneath lush lashes.

“A loan? Really,” she sneered, stepping even closer to watch his eyes zero in on her lips.

“Sure. I’m good for it.”

She trailed her nails through his hair before pulling him closer. “I charge interest.”

“Of course you do.” She could feel the words across the bow of her lips and then, finally, they were kissing, his hands skating down her back to cup the curve of her ass. He pulled back, smirking. “You didn’t wear the skirt.”

“Is that all you think about?”

“Oh, no.” The next instant, his hands cradled her thighs, and she was up, weightless in the air before falling onto the stiff hotel blanket. She had to smile; the bed under her was still made, sheets at sharp lines and right angles, but the boy above her was anything but proper, eyes wild, lips curving in devious intent as he stared down at her. “I think about a lot of things.”

“Like what?”

“How you look out of these clothes.” He ducked his head so his teeth found her neck. “How it sounds when you say my name.” His mouth trailed higher, and he reached down to trace a determined hand up her inner thigh. “How you fucking feel when I-”

Her hands found the solid muscle of his chest and she pushed, hard, straddling his hips when he landed flat on his back. “Are you always so mouthy?”

She immediately realized her mistake when he opened his mouth, laugh lines dimpling his face, and immediately closed it again.

“I mean…”

“I feel like you’re setting me up.”

“Ugh. Is there _any_ way to shut you up?” 

“Multiple,” he laughed and pulled her down, meeting her lips with teeth and tongue until she rolled her hips reflexively; he only bit deeper divots into plush skin, tightening the hand on her thigh so she felt every single digit digging through her jeans deep into her thigh. Her fingers found the hem of his t-shirt, pulling roughly up to expose tight muscles too sculpted to be real. He wasn’t huge or beefy, but every inch of skin lay upon corded muscles, abs clearly defined as her fingers traced them inch-by-inch. “You admiring the view or something?” he sassed.

“You are so... fucking… annoying.”

He laughed, eyes shining, and returned the favor, throwing her shirt across the room, bra quickly following as callused fingers tweaked a nipple. “Come here, come here,” he all but commanded and she could only comply, meeting his mouth for a kiss that ended any lingering doubts in her mind. She was draped over him, nipples peaking as they grazed over the planes of his chest, and sparks burned their way up her spine.

He popped the button of her jeans, one-handed, and she broke the kiss to wriggle out of the rest of her clothes, grinding her hips. She felt the thick line of his cock through his shorts, right where she was boiling hot, and his choked off moan let her know that he could feel every single movement.

She felt frantic, weightless, desperate. She could only kiss him, furiously, as he shimmied the rest of his clothes off. He was so warm under her, skin laid bare underneath her as his hands drew sigils of fire down her thighs, up her back. She couldn’t have stopped if she wanted to, her plans of studying, her common sense, her mind completely gone as she lifted her hips, a quick pivot, and then she was sliding down as he moaned into her mouth.

“Oh fuck, you feel-” The curse was bitten off, thickly rolling from his tongue, but the note of praise was there, awe seeping into his voice. His hands grasped at her hips, holding her in place as his chest heaved as if he had just gone rounds on the court. “Goddamn.”

She rocked her hips tightly, solely to see the flash of pure pleasure fly across his features. Hell, he felt good, just as good as three weeks ago, hiding in a tiny locker room shower stall. But here, they didn’t have to hide, and she was free to slide up and down his length with abandon, moving her hips so it hit the exact right spot inside her. Her toes curled.

He traced a hand down her stomach before it ducked into her folds. The praise continued. “Ellie, fuck, you look so amazing riding me, fuck.” His thumb drew circles around her clit and she fell forward, barely catching herself as shivers started up and down her spine. “You feel so fucking incredible, God-” he breathed, eyes trained on where their bodies came together, heat of his eyes burning through her core. 

She could barely hold herself up, nails digging crescents into his chest, and she was sure that the red marks in the tight muscles would last until his quarterfinal match. She hoped he would feel them on the court, a distracting ache when he was taking a shot or blocking a pass. Her hips moved faster. “Colt, fuck, Colt, I need-”

He surged off the bed to pull her closer with a weighty palm curving at the small of her back, rocking up into her with abandon. It took three more thrusts, hips slamming together once more as he found that spot inside her, and the room exploded, her body quaking as she fell apart, clinging to his shoulders, the only solid thing in a room where everything was moving and shaking in pleasure so strong that she had to close her eyes lest the wave carry her away.

She slid onto the bed, limbs weak. Or perhaps she was on top of Colt? It was hard to tell as the world got hazy. Everything-her mind, her limbs, her sense of time passing- _everything_ was wrapped in fragile gauze, warm and light. 

She should return to her room... but her limbs wouldn’t work, muscles laden and slow. It was easier to just lay here, just for a minute. Maybe it was the sex, but she felt _good_ , relaxed, at ease.

She had seriously planned on reviewing the Heisenberg uncertainty principle again.

She was going to.

She was totally going to head back.

But after they showered together, where Colt had proven his absolute inability to keep his hands to himself and used soap-slick arms to ease her onto the floor, water raining over his head as his tongue drew shapes that made her legs tremble, and after they fell into bed, wrapped in plush towels that quickly found their way to the carpet as her fingers clamped onto the headboard and his hips drove into hers so quickly that she lost her voice, barely able to push air from her lungs as he moved just so, just right to make light flare behind closed eyelids, after, well, it was all hazy. 

She had planned on returning to her room.

_She had._

But somehow, she was sprawled over him, limbs heavy with exhaustion, and nose digging into his chest. Every breath smelled like nondescript hotel soap, clean scent utterly at odds with the dirty deeds this room had seen. His hands traced down her spine as she murmured into his skin. “Who were you on the phone with?”

“Hmm?“

“Earlier. When I came in.”

“Oh. My mom,” he said sheepishly. “She wanted to come watch the games, but she had to work.”

“Aw, are you a momma’s boy?”

“What?!? I would definitely not say that.”

“I bet she had her hands full with you.”

“She’s the reason I play ball; she’s the one that got me into it.”

“Really?”

“She was desperate for something to get my aggression out, give me something to do. She also thought I needed practice working with others, being part of a team, some shit like that. Soccer? Fucking boring. I was downright brutal in football. In hockey, I once tried to slice someone with the edge of my skate and you definitely don’t want to see me with a baseball bat. Basketball just seemed to fit.”

“She’s probably proud of you.”

“Ha. I doubt that very much.” He rolled his eyes. “How about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your family.”

She looked out the window at the moon, crawling through the sky. “Hmm... It’s only me and my dad. My mom died when I was 13, so it’s been only the two of us forever. He’s a little... overprotective.”

“What do you mean?” His hand started running comforting circles around her shoulder blades; she edged closer.

“You know, typical story. Only daughter. He had a lot of trouble letting go. He’s a detective too, LAPD, so he was always petrified I would end up on one of those unsolved crime channels.”

“Daughter of a cop, eh?”

“Yeah,” she sighed, glancing up at him. “So that made it worse. He barely gave me any freedom, and I decided I would get away as far as I could.”

“You sure attending the best college in the US didn’t have something to do with it?”

“Well... that too.”

“I didn’t know you’re from LA.”

“Yeah, born and raised.”

“Hmm...I wonder if your dad ever ran into my Pops,” he scoffed. “They run in... similar circles, I’m sure.”

“What… are you from LA?”

“Originally, but my mom moved me out East before I started high school.”

“And your dad is still there?”

“I think.” Colt looked away. “He hasn’t spoken to me in years.”

“Ouch.” 

“I hate him.” She watched his eyes shutter; unbidden, her hand ran through his damp hair. “I almost dropped out last year.”

“Of _college_?!?”

He shrugged.

“Why?”

He inhaled through his nose, hard, exhale ruffling the strands of her hair making their way over his sculpted chest. “I had this grand plan to leave school, take my bike to LA, confront my dad, work my way into the family business, rule the world.”

“But… you have school, basketball.”

“I know… but I wanted...” 

The silence hung heavy enough for Ellie’s heart to hurt. “What happened?”

“My mom caught on, lit into me, said I was risking my future to be like my dad and tool on cars the rest of my life.”

“He’s a mechanic?”

“Well... something like that. Owns a garage in Gramercy Park.”

“You don’t seem like you like cars that much.”

“I don’t.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “But I’m fucking fantastic with my hands. Want me to show you?” He rolled over to slide on top of her, running those talented hands down her sides, lower, and time passed and the haze in her brain intensified.

.

“She was actually my competition. My best friend is still out west at school and, when we realized we would go to the same school, she kinda... took me under her wing. I was... sheltered before that.” She was fully on top of him- _how did that happen?_ \- running her nails through his hair, his scalp, while he mewled underneath her. They both still weren’t wearing clothes. It was late, or early, moon still passing through the sky. She needed to go back to her room but, when his hand cradled her hips, she really couldn’t bring herself to move.

“You don’t seem that sheltered.”

“Well, not anymore. Ingrid helped me come out of my shell, make me realize that I could have a life besides studying. She even got me into cheer.”

“Wait, how long have you been cheering?”

“A little over a year. I started senior year of high school.”

“Wow,” he rumbled, moaning when her nails grazed behind his ears. “I would have thought it would have been longer.”

She hit the spot again and his moan got louder. “Colt?”

“Hmm.”

She slid lower, catching him right where his cock was stiffening underneath her. She circled her hips, a slow grind, a catch of breath, and then she was sliding down again, guttural whimper making its way through her lips. “I’m done talking.”

.

They dozed. She slept, she thought she did at least, but she was startled awake when she rolled over into him; then her hands tracing over the defined muscles of his chest woke him up, and suddenly she was on her back. Time shifted, bent, and she had no idea what time it was or what day it was, but then it didn’t even matter. His tongue flicked and it must have been something, diabolical sorcery or criminal mischief or _something_ , because the next thing she knew, she was flying, screaming, the world ending around her in a blaze of sparks and light, gripping his hair so tightly that it must have ached, must have hurt him because it hurt her, her hand fisted into silken strands but she couldn’t let go, she had to hold on to something, some anchor, some piece of solid ground, while the world broke apart into shards.

.

Did they sleep? She had no idea.

She only knew she couldn’t catch her breath.

Her fingers tangled at the back of his head. She pulled lightly, but his lips didn’t budge from a patch of skin at her collarbone. “My uniform-oh God- my uniform won’t cover that.”

Finally, he sat back, eyes trained on the tender mark, the result of lips and teeth and white hot pleasure. “Good,” he rasped, eyes scorching as he looked down her bare body. With a smirk, he went lower, teeth delivering a love bite to her thigh. “How about here? I think that skirt is shorter than this.”

“Ugh… higher.” She pulled his head up higher, and his tongue traced up her thigh. “No, higher.” She could barely reach his jaw, fingertips struggling, pulling him up. “Colt, higher, _please_.” And when his tongue finally reached where she needed it, her hand flew to her mouth to cover the high whine and time stopped.

.

It was too late. She blinked. What day...was that the sunrise? She sat up, peering through the windows at an ominous purpling of the sky.

“Mmpf.” He rolled over to paw at a hip, pulling her back against him. “C’mon, stay.”

She glanced between the door and the sport on his cheekbone where his eyelashes fluttered. “What about your roommate?”

“No roommate.” His arm tightened around her waist, warm and solid. “Just stay.”

She swung her legs onto the bed and settled against his chest. “How did you swing that?”

“Incident. Last year. I told...” His voice dropped, heavy with sleep; it rumbled through her back, into her lungs. “Gonna throw ‘em out the window…” he yawned. Their legs tangled. She waited for the rest of the story but it apparently wasn’t coming; when she peered over her shoulder, his lashes were heavy against his cheek, jaw slack, breath regular and low. Her muscles slowly relaxed and, against her better judgement, she pulled the sheet closer _. I’ll wait until he’s asleep._ She knew how hookups with basketball players went; she wasn’t dumb. _Just until he falls asleep….then I’ll sneak out. I’ll just rest a minute and then go._ She closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, the sun was high in the sky.

“Crap!” She shouted, sitting up.

Colt jolted up next to her, arms flailing. “What? What happened?”

“It’s morning. It’s…” She glanced at the clock. “Oh my god, it’s one in the afternoon!”

“Umm… ok?”

She jumped out of bed, cursing again when her shin hit the nightstand. “I have to go. My roommate... Ingrid’s gonna freak out.” She raced to her purse to grab her phone, shoulders dropping at the seventeen messages and six missed calls. “Ingrid already freaked out.”

“Then stay.” He settled back into bed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Tell her you’re fine and come back to bed.”

She paused, covertly studying him out of the corner of her eye while her fingers hovered over the phone screen. Basketball players weren’t exactly the ‘breakfast the next morning’ type. “I have to be at the arena in an hour; we’re playing the afternoon game today.”

“There you go; enough time for room service.”

She blinked. She couldn’t think of a reason to leave and, besides, his bed was comfortable. “... fine.” She texted Ingrid while Colt called in the order, ignoring the resulting three blaring phone notifications as she slid back into bed.

“Room service will be here in thirty.” He pulled her against his chest, hand sliding down her back to rest lightly on the curve of her ass. “You know what that’s just enough time for?”

She raised her eyebrows and retorted, “A shower?”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.” Ellie giggled as he hoisted her over his shoulder to cart her to the bathroom.

As the hotel staff learned, thirty minutes was not enough time for a shower. It was enough time to memorize how her hands looked, scrambling against the bathroom tile. It was enough time to catalogue every sound from his throat. It was enough time to fall apart, to shake into pieces, and forget everything except the way his body perfectly molded to hers. 

She was 20 minutes late to warm-ups and, despite Ingrid’s incredulous expression, she couldn’t quite bring herself to care.


	2. Chapter 2

Ellie hoped it was out of her system, that her temporary insanity had run its course and she would return to her normal focus and drive, but Ingrid ruthlessly guilt-tripped her into attending a party that night. Apparently, there were parties every night, various hotel rooms and bars teeming with players and associated hanger-ons, and Ingrid was never one to be left out of a party, especially when they were celebrating a Langston victory.

She was dabbing concealer on the mark at her collarbone when Ingrid walked in, fixing her with a penetrating stare. “You know… you know what you’re doing, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“Hooking up with a player? Who is it?”

Ellie blinked; her reflection looked as startled as she felt. “I don’t...I don’t know what you’re-”

“I’m not stupid.” Ingrid swiped a brilliant red over her lips, pursing them in the mirror. “You stayed out all night and showed up exhausted to the game with a hickey no makeup can hide? Seriously?”

“It’s not….” Her cheeks were as red as Ingrid’s lipstick.

“Ellie. Listen. Hooking up with players is...complicated.” She turned to fully face Ellie, hip resting against the sink, eyes imploring. “Be careful. They are in it for one thing and one thing only. And you’re never the only one. They always have fans in and out of their beds and we can’t be seen with them, anyway. It’s always temporary; no matter what, there’s always an expiration date.”

“I don’t…”

“Everyone hooks up here. Playoff week is like Candyland but then everyone goes back to the real world. And hookups with players, whether Langston or opponents... it doesn’t translate to back home.”

Ellie swallowed, hoping that it was the bathroom lights that were making her look so washed out.

“But...the guys are all in their peak physical prime so the sex is _verrrry_ good,” Ingrid purred, wolfish smile alighting her face. “But don’t fall for it. Cuz that’s _alllll_ they want.”

“I…” She inspected her nails.

“Ellie… I know…” Her voice was kind, confiding. “I know what you were like in high school and I have really loved seeing you come out of your shell, watch you meeting new people and having a social life. I just... I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I won’t.” She looked up to meet Ingrid’s gaze head on in the mirror. “It’s not like that. It’s…” Images and sensations flashed through her mind, the glint in his eyes as he tracked her movements, the curve of his hand as he pulled her back into bed. “You’re right. It’s just sex. Really.”

Ingrid’s sigh echoed through the bathroom but, thankfully, she dropped it in favor of a sassy lipstick kiss on the mirror. “Fine, fine. Ready to go?”

Ellie didn’t answer the question, only dutifully followed Ingrid out the door, hoping that the party was worth giving up an evening with her nose in theorems and formulas.

It wasn’t.

The party was everything she dreaded; she could barely see through the bodies crowded in the penthouse suite. They forced their way through the crush, avoiding the flailing arms on the dance floor and cheering bros piled around a beer pong table before finally stopping by the makeshift bar. 

“What do you want?” Ingrid wrinkled her nose as she looked over the selection, finally picking up some fruity spikes seltzer with dainty fingertips.

Ellie hummed absentmindedly, “I’ll have a water.” She looked through the crowd again, spying players from all the teams milling and laughing, other cheerleaders she recognized from earlier in the season. But not everyone was there, apparently; she stood on her tiptoes, stretching to see over the crowd, trying and failing to avoid looking for a certain smirk.

“You are so boring.” Ingrid chided and then grabbed her arm. “Oh, there’s Jack. I’m gonna go say hi. Be right back!”

Ellie didn’t even have time to say goodbye before Ingrid was off, weaving through the crowd, trained like a honing missile on the upperclassman she had been fawning over. Ellie sighed, leaning against the table. It would be an interminable night.

As she was nursing her drink, she felt a gentle nudge at her side.

“So are you on a women’s team or are you a cheerleader?” 

She turned and immediately flushed as she realized that the boy next to her fit every single qualification of tall, dark, and handsome. _Were all basketball players this cute?_ Of course, he was tall but the chiseled cheekbones? The dark scruff teasing its way down his jawline? She had to replay his question in her head. “Oh... cheerleader.”

“I should have guessed. It’s a prerequisite to be gorgeous, apparently. Who do you cheer for?”

“Langston.”

“Ah, we beat you guys three weeks ago. And if we both keep playing well, we’ll see you in the finals.” She nodded, but a familiar figure pushing through the crowd stole her attention. He was engrossed in an intense conversation with a tall brunette; even from here, she knew they were talking strategy, Colt’s eyes lighting up as they parried ideas back and forth. His eyes swept the crowd as he walked past the dance floor, nodding along as his friend spoke, but he stopped as soon as his eyes locked on hers. She swallowed, unable to look away, as he bid farewell to his friend and walked over, positively swaggering, every step filled with the unbridled confidence owned solely by boys who threw the first punch because they knew they would throw the last. She wished she were more stoic, able to pretend that he wasn’t affecting her, but the swoop in her stomach made it impossible to think of anything else.

However, when he sidled up to them, she was surprised that he turned instead to the boy in front of her.

“Logan?”

“Sup, Kaneko?”

“Toby was looking for you.”

“What?”

“He said something about that play you guys were drawing up. With the hand-off at center court?”

“What did he-”

“I dunno man, something about trying it while dribbling backwards?”

“What?” Logan’s eyes widened. “I gotta... I’m sorry.” He turned to her and panic flared on his face. “I have to go.”

Once Logan rushed away racing through the crowd on a mission, she flushed under Colt’s gaze; he narrowed his eyes. “What in the world you talking to him for?”

“What? What do you…” She lifted her chin to shoot him a challenging stare. “Wait, you jealous?”

“Jealous?” He rolled his eyes. “Ha. If I were, I would have just given him a black eye.”

“Why do you care who I talk to?”

“I don’t.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, deflating under her scrutinizing glare. “I am shocked to see you here.”

“What do you mean?”

“This doesn’t seem like your kinda place,” he scoffed. “I figured you would be in your room studying.”

“This doesn’t seem like your kinda place. I figured you would be in your room brooding.”

“Ha. That hurts..” He shrugged, eyes intent on her. “I mean, nothing was really going on in my room.”

She bit her lip. “Ingrid wanted to come and, after my vanishing act yesterday, I figured I should spend some time with her.”

“Well then, where is she?”

Ellie pointed to the dance floor, where Ingrid’s heavy make-out session with the Langston forward was definitely an NCAA violation.

“Hey, I know him.” Colt ducked his head to see through the crowd, rolling his eyes. “He got so huffy about a pick I made that he tried to punch me. They had to stop the game to find his tooth.”

“What?” Ellie peered through the crowd. “No, it was our center you fought.”

“Nah, different game.”

“Wait… how many times have you fought someone on my team?”

“Hmm…” he pondered, eyes narrowing, “I mean, how many times have I played you?”

“Wait…”

“Twice a year in the regular season and once in the playoffs last year, so what is that? Five?”

“You’ve... you’ve been ejected from every game you’ve played us?”

“Sweetheart… I’m ejected from about half of the games I play.”

“How are you still in the league?”

“I’ve gotten a lot of warnings.” He glanced around the room. “But people here have done far worse than me.”

She wasn’t stupid; she had heard horror stories of the trouble athletes had gotten into. It was one reason she had consciously avoided players until... well, until now. Players were not in the plan. But now?

“You wanna get outta here?”

“What?”

He shrugged. “I mean, we could stay and play drinking games and get wasted…” He nodded at her water. “Or we could not.” She smirked, holding his gaze as he ducked his head to whisper in her ear, “So, do you wanna get outta here?”

“Yeah, I do.” She _really_ did. With one last glance across the dance floor to ensure Ingrid was occupied, she followed him back to the exit, eyebrows flying up when he clasped her palm to lead her through the mass of bodies. His hand was warm, strong, and entirely too solid for a fling with some collegiate athlete; she held tight anyway. 

She eyed him closely as they walked to the elevator. Now that the roar of the party was receding, Ingrid’s words rang loud in her brain. “What did you mean when you said you noticed me?”

“What?”

“The first time we played you. This season.” The sports page said it had been his best game all season; she didn’t remember a thing except for flashcards on enthalpically driven reactions.

He raised an eyebrow. “You mean, when you were so busy studying that you didn’t even say hi to me? You ignored the star of the game?”

“Oh my God, you are so full of yourself.”

He laughed, looking far more relaxed than he had at the party; instead of being on guard, he looked almost boyish, young, eyes gleaming in the elevator lights. “When I first saw you, you were berating your friend.”

“What?” Of all the things she was expecting, that was not it.

“Your roommate? Ingrid? She made some mistake in her hand placement of a hold and you were trying to fix it before the game. And then you made the team try to retry the jump flip thing?”

“The what?”

“Christ, I don’t know what it’s called. You jump in the air and flip around and three people catch you before you crater onto the court. You made them do it repeatedly until you thought it was perfect.”

The doors opened, and she stepped out, glancing over at him.

“I honestly couldn’t fucking tell a difference any of the times you did it.”

“I…” She followed him down the hall, brow furrowed. “I thought you would say something about the skirt.”

“I do like the skirt.” He reached into his pocket for the key, eyes on her the entire time. “But you’re tough. You didn’t take Ingrid’s shit. Hell, you don’t take my shit. You have high expectations of others, but you expect perfection from yourself. You’re smart and you don’t let anyone stand in your way.”

The door opened with a ding and she stumbled in, unsteady. Apparently, Colt’s talents at surgically cataloguing and exposing the strengths and weaknesses of others was not confined solely to the court.

“What? Why do you...?” he asked.

She blinked, inhaled slowly, exhaled slower, and finally spoke. “You sound like a fortune cookie.”

He laughed again; thankfully, his head fell back so he missed how weak her return smile was as her eyes drifted to his jersey, tossed in a heap on the floor. The championship game was in five days.

If that was her expiration date, then goddamn, she would make the most of it. Straightening, she stalked over to him. “Did you bring me here only to talk?”

He looked down to where her fingers were touching his arm and then caught her eye. “How about some dirty talk?” She rolled her eyes, blush flaring, and he stepped even closer. “How ‘bout some things that definitely wouldn’t be on a fortune cookie?”

Her breath stopped as he ducked his head, lips tracing her cheek, neck, lower, following a trail of red as far as it went, then lower as they fell to the carpet.

They didn’t make it to the bed.

And when security banged on their door to inquire about a noise complaint, Ellie could not stop stuttering apologies, Colt could not stop laughing; once they left, it became his mission to make her scream even louder.

He succeeded.

~~~~~

Ellie woke up slow. Her muscles ached, the best kind of sore, and she sighed in satisfaction. The room was gauzy around her but, as things slowly came into focus, she realized her head was pillowed on a muscular chest, legs intertwined, sunlight just starting to crawl up the starched sheets.

“Colt?”

His eyes were focused on his phone, staring intently at something flashing across the screen. He didn’t move.

“Hey, Colt?”

Finally, he looked down and realized she was awake. “Oh, hey.” He pulled out an earbud. “Morning.”

“Morning. What are you so focused on?”

“Hmm? It’s game tape.”

“What is it?” She sat up, curling into his side to peer at the screen. “Oh my God, you narcissist. Are you watching yourself?”

“Ha ha.” He wrapped his free hand tighter around her waist and sighed, “It’s the game against Williamsburg. See him #42?”

“Yeah.”

“He torched us for a double-double. That’s not gonna happen again.”

He hit play, and the video ran, zoomed in on the player Colt referenced. Ellie had learned a lot from cheering at game after game, but she was no expert. However, even she could tell he was their best player, watching him drain three after three. She squinted at the screen. “What is that weird thing he does with his hand?”

“What weird thing?” Colt hummed.

“The weird flick thing. With his wrist.”

“Huh? What are you…” Colt moved the video back a few seconds to watch. And did it again.

“That! You see that?”

“Yeah….” He sat up slowly, eyes trained on the screen. “He does it before his pump fake. Holy… how did you…”

“Biomechanical engineering, remember?”

“Damn…” he finally turned to her, eyes gleaming, and the awe in his voice made her flush. “I am so fucking keeping you around!”

And when his lips crashed into hers, she could almost forget the twisting in her gut that reminded her of their expiration date, her plans, and the fact that no one was keeping anyone around. 

_Almost_.

~~~~~

Ellie was tucked back into his sheets when he sauntered out of the bathroom. She stared. It had been a while since she had seen him in actual clothes.

“Are you going to the other quarterfinals games?” he asked, toweling his hair.

“Uh…..no? Why would I?”

“I dunno. I go to all of them.”

“Why?”

“Well, we play whoever wins the afternoon game and I think it’s gonna be Williamsberg. Good time to scope out the competition.”

“That’s very strategic of you.”

He leaned over the bed to kiss behind her ear. “I’ll show you strategic.” Then, his tongue parted her lips, stealing her breath until there was a pounding on the door.

“Come on, we’re gonna be late,” a feminine voice hollered from outside.

He pulled back. “Give me a second, for Christ’s sake!” He turned back to Ellie and kissed down her jaw, sloping down her neck. “I’ll be back, ok?”

“What?” she whispered.

“Yo, Kaneko, let’s go.” The girl from outside pounded on the door again.

“Will you be here when I get back?”

Her eyes widened. “If you’re going to both games... you want me to stay here until 10 tonight?”

The kisses returned to the side of her neck, lower, and she tangled her hands in his shirt. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Fine.” She couldn’t help but return the smile, laughing as he flashed her one last wink before ducking out the door and settling back against the pillow.

She lounged for a while, flipping back and forth between channels and seeing what appeared to be every single Picta image ever posted before she snuck out, hotel key firmly in her pocket, and made her way down the stairs to duck back into her own hotel room.

Ingrid greeted her with a raised eyebrow. “Where have you been?” Her eyes immediately found the hickie on Ellies neck and she leered, “And what, or who, have you been doing?”

“Oh my God, stop.” Ellie barely glanced her way before sticking her head in her backpack, rummaging around for a couple textbooks. If she was hanging out in a strange room all day, she might as well get some studying in.

“Seriously, though. Are you...Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Yes! Yes yes, jeez, yes. I’m having fun. Isn’t that what you want for me?”

“Yeah, but…” Ingrid frowned. “I just worry. You’re so set on studying and school and after school...I don’t want some loser meathead to ruin it for you.”

“He’s not-” She had to physically bite her tongue to stop herself from refuting the phrase. Colt was a lot of things, a walking ball of contradictions wrapped in tight muscles and fast fists, but meathead loser was far from it. Unfortunately, Ingrid’s raised eyebrows suggested she knew exactly how Ellie would have finished that sentence. She sighed and started over, “He won’t ruin anything. I have a plan and I’m sticking to it. He’s just….” She had to inhale a shuddering breath to power through the rest of the words. “He’s a fling. It’s just sex and, after this, everything is gonna go right back to normal. My future plans are fine.”

“Ah yes, Ellie’s seven step plan to get her doctorate and take over the world.”

“Not the whole world.” _Where were her highlighters_?

“I worry about you.”

“I’m fine. It’s all fine.”

But even when Ellie clutched her books to her chest and headed out the door again, even when she did her best to keep her head high and fight back the blush, Ingrid did not look convinced.

Ellie didn’t know how convinced she was herself.

~~~~~

The only sound in the room was the ESPN announcers droning on and the scratch of a pen over dense words. She had nearly finished the chapter on thermodynamic principles, sprawled over the bed with her toes buried under warm sheets, when the door opened.

“Hey, how were the games?” She finished writing out a formula on an index card, checking to make sure she had noted the correct number of atoms.

“Good. We’re gonna win it all this year, you wait. Williamsburg looked rough.”

“What about Langston?!?”

“Yeah, I don’t…” He sat next to her, trailing off as he noticed that the television was on. “Ugh, turn that shit off.”

“What do you mean? They’re talking about the playoffs.”

He reached for the remote but she held it over the side of the bed, giggling as he flailed. “Look, Langston, there we are. Future champ-Hey! Red and gold. Wait, that’s you!”

“You know they replay this shit, right? They showed it already.”

“You’ve seen it? Don’t ruin it for me, big shot.”

She glanced over at him and his jaw was set, eyes hard.

“Colt?” He didn’t move, eyes looking through the television in front of them, sour lines painted across his face, even though the announcer was droning on about his court vision and passion. She laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Hey, I can turn it off.”

“It’s fine, whatever.” He shook his head and sighed, eyes looking past the tv, past the wall. She frowned. “I just wonder sometimes... does he fucking see this shit? He never watched a fucking game, he never fucking showed but now, that asshole... he cares so much about the family name, the family legacy and now, when people look up Kaneko, it’s _me_. It’s me they see, not that asshole.” He blinked furiously, still staring straight ahead.

She hit the power button, dropping the remote on the floor to straddle him, cupping his cheeks to look him in the eye. “Colt.” He didn’t even blink, staring straight through her. “Colt.” She thumbed his cheekbone; he didn’t move. “Kaneko.”

“You’ve…” His eyelashes fluttered slowly as he gazed at her. “You’ve never called me that.”

“Isn’t that what your teammates call you?”

“It hits a little different when you say it.”

“Huh? How so?”

“When people say it to me…” He swallowed, hard. “When people say it to my dad...I’m used to it being hollered or screamed. Not...” He trailed off.

“Not what?”

“Not all sexy.” His gaze softened when she glared, and his voice dropped so she had to strain to hear. “Not like it means something.”

“You’re the only Kaneko that means something.”

She gasped as the room spun, landing on her back as he hovered over her. “Call me that again.”

“Kaneko,” she gasped and his lips found her neck, lower, sharp pinpoints of white pain as he found the bruise on her collarbone.

“Again.”

“Kaneko,” she moaned and a tense hand dove into her hair, tilting her head to the side to drive teeth into her sensitive neck. Her hips bucked.

“Me, my _name_ ,” he growled into her ear and her vision dimmed, consciousness fading to the only things that mattered: his hands rough on her hips and his voice a rasp in her ears.

“Colt. _Cooolt_. Kaneko. Colt, _please_!” He ripped the shirt off his head and her clothes followed, flying through the room, textbooks slamming on the floor, a flurry of motion until she was underneath him, nails digging into his back. He slid inside of her and she screamed, pressure building as his name fled her lips, along with epithets far too vulgar for daylight, as he worked her into a frenzy and then an explosion, when names and sight and anything except for white-hot pleasure was meaningless.

~~~~~

At least when she woke up next, it was still morning. But, by the time they got their act together, breakfast in bed followed by a shower and, a few hours after that, another shower, it was no longer morning, sun high in the sky as Colt grabbed his wallet. “You ever been to Nationals before?”

“Nope.” She shrugged. “Freshman, remember?”

He smiled, grabbing his key from the desk. “Then let’s get outta here.”

“What?”

“Let’s go. See the sights. You don’t have a game until tonight, right?

“Yeah… our semifinal match. I need to be at the arena at 7.”

“Good. Come on.”

She was confused but followed, escaping the hotel to make their way into the city, avoiding the crowds and the press to hop a bus downtown. They grabbed lunch at the waterfront, Colt threatening to push her in the river, hands solid around her waist as she laughed and laughed and laughed. He bought her ice cream and then wiped vanilla on her cheek; his tongue was absolutely indecent as it licked it off, entirely inappropriate for a crowded street. She couldn’t bring herself to complain through her flush. He followed her through small shops, grumbling bitterly the entire way, but she still snapped a photo of him in prop sunglasses and a cowboy hat before he put her in a headlock, pulling her out the shop door as the bell rang merrily over their heads. 

And when she arrived at the arena, 20 minutes before game time, clutching her uniform in both hands, he pushed her against the closed doors to thoroughly map her mouth, lips pinned to hers as hungry hands roved her body and her Langston blue-and-whites fell to the pavement as she pulled him even closer.

And during the game, she had no idea what the score was, registering neither her routine nor the Langston victory; her mind was far away, and she felt distracted, disembodied, until she was sliding the key into the lock and was falling back into his bed.


	3. Chapter 3

Lips trailed up her neck, breaking through her consciousness; she tilted her head, and they went higher, nerves firing sparks of pleasure in their wake. **  
**

“I gotta go,” Colt’s voice was low in her ear and Ellie craned her neck further, wanting more of that delicious pressure. 

“Mmmmh,” she whined, reaching her hand back. “Stay.”

“God, I wish I fucking could. Team meeting- need to shoot around, talk about the game tonight, all that bullshit.”

“Nooo…” She opened her eyes, shocked to see the sun positively alight through the blinds. “What time is it?”

“Noon.” His smile was positively indecent given the simple question. “You stayed up late last night.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You did too, you know.”

“But I have a game tonight.”

“Just… God, just come here.” He let her pull her closer, down onto the bed, so she could wrap a bare leg around where he was unfortunately far too clothed. “Stay,” she eked out between kisses.

“I want to, God, I fucking want…” He pulled away, clearing his throat. “Figured you would be hungry, so I ordered room service.”

“Ha ha. When will you be back?”

“Soon.” And with that, he was out the door.

Soon apparently did not mean the same thing to him, however, as it did to her. She polished off breakfast and flicked through the tv channels, stopping to watch a bit of analysis of the game tonight; she had to flick it off when the announcers started discussing Colt Kaneko’s explosive temper. She tried to study but the words and formulas swirled, flowing into indecipherable designs in front of her mind, until she pushed the books off the bed in a fit of rage, pages crinkling against the carpet. She wandered the hotel lobby for a while and, not knowing where else to go, her feet led her right to the arena doors. It was quiet, only staff cleaning to prepare for the crowds that would stream through the doors, AV techs setting up wires and mics, two announcers in the booth getting ready for filming.

And one solitary player knocking back free throws on the parquet. 

He was so engrossed in the methodical rhythm of the bounce and swish of the ball sailing through net that he didn’t even notice her creep down the stairs until her sneakers squeaked piercingly on the court.

“Hey.” His brow furrowed in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

“I was bored.” She shrugged. “You were gone for hours.”

“I was?” He pulled out his phone, face falling. “Damn.”

“You were in the zone, I get it. It happens to me when I study.”

“Ok, smarty pants.”

“You’re good,” she nodded to the hoop.

He sank another free throw. “Huh?”

“At the whole... shooting the ball… thing.”

“The… the shooting the ball thing? Seriously?”

“Shut up.”

His lips curled into a slow grin. “Come here.”

“What?”

“Come here.” His free hand kept up a steady dribble as he gestured to her. “You said you wanted to take me on. Here’s your chance.”

Her steps were hesitant as she stepped underneath the bright lights illuminating the court. “I’ve never even played basketball; I’m not sure this would go well.”

“Well, you can be plenty distracting.”

She smirked. “I’m not sure if that would help at Nationals. I’ve never even shot the ball.”

“Really? Go for it.” He flipped it to her, and she barely caught it, fingers locked in a tight grip around the rubber.

“I’m not sure…”

“Take a free throw. C’mon, show me what you got.”

“Umm…” She stepped over, putting the toes of her sneakers against the line. “Like this?” She lifted the ball. The hoop looked so far away from here, much further than it seemed from the sidelines, and it appeared to have shrunk, circle diminishing as soon as she stepped to the line. _How in the hell-?_

“Wait, you-”

She didn’t let him finish speaking before she shot, chucking the ball as hard as possible, eyes tracking its path as it sailed over the backboard, bouncing against the wall before rolling uselessly behind the bleachers.

Colt started laughing, hanging his head.

“What?” she huffed. “I told you….”

He jogged over to grab the ball, passing it to her again. “Ok, first of all, what the hell were you aiming at? See the front of the rim?”

“Yeah…”

“Focus there. You’re a righty?”

“Yeah?”

“Aim, bend your knees, and then push the ball off your fingertips, following the motion with your right hand.”

She shook her head. “That seems like a lot.”

“I’ve seen you pull a back flip 20 feet in the air and you’re telling me you can’t shoot?”

“... Fine.”

She stood at the line again, staring at the rim. “Bend your knees,” he called. 

“Ok, ok.” Rolling her eyes, she complied and then moved, pushing the ball from her hands; this time, it was closer, slamming into the glass of the backboard before ricocheting back towards them. Colt grabbed it with an outstretched palm.

“Jesus, ease up. You need to be gentle.”

“What?”

“Gentle, like you’re throwing an egg.” He handed her the ball. “Try again.”

“Gentle? You? That’s ridiculous.”

He narrowed his eyes before stepping behind her; she couldn’t stop the gasp at the line of heat at her back. Her breath stuttered, fingers tightening into the rubber between her hands, and she was acutely aware of every point of contact, his bare legs brushing hers, his chest against her back, the fingers that were sliding over her elbows to trace up, over wrists and fingers and bones and skin, cheek brushing against hers as he whispered, “I can be gentle.” His breath shot lightning down her spine, and she was melting, overheating, turning into liquid in the spotlight of the free throw line. “Here, let me help.” He moved her, fingers impossibly soft, raising her arms, so the ball was over her head and his phone rang somewhere in his pocket but he only tangled their fingers together and, hell, she didn’t need to know how to shoot, anyway. The ball fell from her suddenly weak fingertips, echoing as it bounced into some far corner, and she spun in his arms to grab the back of his head, pulling him down to her, desperately frantically overwhelmingly needing his lips on hers before she collapsed, when-

“There you are!”

They broke apart, leaping away from each other as the side door slammed shut behind one of his teammates. She started when she realized that they had met before, at the party after the quarterfinals. Crap. He knew that she cheered for another team.

Colt looked almost guilty, eyes wide and darting to hers, and she was sure her face mirrored his. “What do you want, Logan?”

“Coach sent me to see if you still have time to look over the tape he pulled but…” Logan’s eyes lingered on Ellie; she flushed, praying he didn’t recognize her. “It looks like you’re busy.”

“We were…” she coughed. “I was just leaving.”

“No way. I was wondering where Kaneko’s been spending all his time. Now I know. I remember talking to you at an after party, but I don’t think if we officially met. I’m Logan.” He held out his hand, shaking hers with a sturdy grip.

_Crap_. “I’m Ellie.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“Ok, asshole, you can tell coach that-”

Colt tried to interject, but Logan kept his eyes trained on her. “So you coming to the game tonight?”

Her eyes flitted to Colt. “Uh… I mean… I wasn’t…”

Colt blinked, rocking back on his heels. “Uhh….” She had seen him fight opposing players towering over him and deal with the pressure of thousands of spectators screaming his name; she had never seen him fidget like this. “You can… If you want...”

“I don’t have a ticket.”

Logan scoffed, “Come on, we have a box. It’s for friends and family... and rival cheerleaders apparently.”

_Double crap_. “You’re not gonna…”

“I’m not gonna tell anyone.” Logan rolled his eyes. “Usually, Kaneko’s punched at least a few of us by this point at the playoffs; I think we all want to keep you around. For safety.”

“All right, asshole, you can leave. Unless you wanna break that streak right now.”

“Ok, going, going.” Logan held up supplicating hands as he edged away. “It was nice to meet you, Ellie.”

“You too.” She watched him leave and turned to Colt with a frown. He pulled his phone from his pocket, pointedly avoiding her gaze.

“Do you need a ticket to get in the box?”

“I have a ticket. In the box. You could go if you wanted.” He was still staring at his phone.

“You don’t…” She squinted at him, but he didn’t look up, engrossed in anything but her. “You don’t need it for someone else?”

“I mean, I would have given it to my mom but...”

“Oh…”

“And my dad’s never-well, he’s sure as hell ain’t coming.” He shrugged, putting his phone in his pocket, and turned away from her; even in profile, the furrow of his brow was harsh, closed-off and dark. “It’s ok, you don’t have to-”

“No, I wanna go.” His head jerked around; she barely caught the blinding grin before he tempered his expression.

“You do?” He was still fighting the smile, but the corners of his mouth twitched. “I mean, you already know the outcome, right? You know we’re gonna play you in the finals.”

“Idiot. I wanna go.”

“Oh.” He nodded. “Ok.” He nodded again, grin almost bashful as it spread across his face. “Cool.”

~~~~~~

It was a completely unfamiliar experience, watching the game unfold from above. She was so used to being courtside that it was disconcerting, watching the game like a bird. The players were smaller, nondescript, and she had to focus on tracking Colt as he weaved around the court. She frowned as he got caught in a pick-and-roll but battled back to block the ensuing shot, ball careening into the stands.

However, one benefit was definitely the food and drink. Apparently stationed to satisfy all the random administration officials wandering around, the free buffet was worlds above the cafeteria at school. Ellie was making her way up for seconds when a pointed drawl made her freeze.

“Who’s chick are you?”

Ellie froze, plate dangling awkwardly in the air, as she turned to face the girl standing beside her. She was already worried about someone recognizing her, and the suspicious tone did nothing to ease her concern. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve never seen you before. Who are you sleeping with to get a ticket?”

“Excuse me?!?”

“What?” The girl raised a manicured eyebrow. She was downright gorgeous, thick glossy hair framing cynical eyes and trailing down to the deep black ink that wound its way around her arms. “Am I wrong?”

“Mona!” A shout made Ellie turn her head to see a woman striding over, towering over the crowd. “Are you harassing strangers again?”

“It’s not harassment. I’m just making conversation, meeting new people.”

“I’m sorry, sweetie.” The unknown girl turned and, like a flash, Ellie realized why she looked so familiar; she and Colt were locked in a heated conversation at the party after the quarterfinals. “Please ignore her. She’s been in a nasty mood since she got suspended from the team and has been taking it out on everyone.”

“You know I didn’t want to join the team, anyway,” Mona huffed. “It was just so I didn’t get expelled the last time I threatened some frat bros.”

“And I’m amazed that they still let you stay at Nationals after _this_ time you threatened some frat bros.” She turned to Ellie. “I’m Ximena.”

“Ellie.” She put her hand up in an awkward wave but the girl only shook her head, stepping forward to squish her between two massively muscled arms. The squeak that emerged from her lips was mortifying but, once the pressure on her lungs vanished and she could breathe again, she was too relieved to care.

“Sorry, I do hugs. Wanna sit with us?”

“Sure…” Ellie carefully carried her food over, sitting down carefully at a folding chair right at the glass. The third quarter had barely started, and she had to take a minute to find Colt jawing angrily on the sideline.

“-Ellie?”

“I’m sorry.” She turned to see Ximena looking at her expectantly. “What did you say?”

“Do you watch all the games?”

“Umm... some?”

Mona scoffed. “Come on, we haven’t seen you here before. Who on the team are you dating?”

“No one!” At least, she could be honest about that, though it didn’t seem to dissuade Mona any, her eyes positively gleaming.

“Ok then... who you fucking?”

“Mona!” Ximena leaned over, her hand covering the entire lower half of the other girl’s face. “I am so sorry. I would say she’s not normally like this, but she is.”

Ellie’s lips stretched into a tight grin; she tried to soften her features into an actual smile, but she didn’t manage it. “How about you guys? Are you on the women’s team?”

“Yup!” Ximena proudly beamed. “Our final is tomorrow night.”

“At least you’re excited.”

“Aw, Mona, don’t be so bitter. I’m sure you’ll play next year.”

“Can’t wait,” Mona mumbled numbly, eyes narrowing as she scanned the box. “Hey, look…” Her elbow jabbed Ximena in the ribs. “He’s here again?”

“Who?” Ximena turned her head to follow Mona’s gaze. “Oh my God, again?”

Ellie peered across the box, seeing only suits talking in whispers as they scribbled on tablets and narrowed their eyes at the game. “Uh... who?”

Ximena leaned closer to speak in a raspy whisper. “Your six. Blue suit.” Ellie turned, taking in the object of their study. He was tall, with beefy hands scribbling notes on a small notebook, beady eyes looking through the glass intently. “He’s a scout for the Jazz.”

“The who?”

“Utah NBA team. He’s been blowing up Kaneko’s phone.”

“Logan’s, too.” Mona flicked her hair over a shoulder. “Supposedly, he’s not so good at taking no for an answer.”

“Utah?” Ellie asked weakly. _He hadn’t even-_

Mona scoffed, digging her teeth into a chicken wing, ripping the skin from the bone. “I can’t believe they want those losers. Logan spent half the quarterfinal game consoling Toby over a missed free throw while Kaneko had to be held back from assaulting a ref. They couldn’t keep it together at McDonald’s, let alone the NBA.”

Ellie shot a glance at the scout, still rapidly jotting notes, before she peered down at the court below. Logan was at the free throw line, waiting patiently while the refs sorted out some scuffling at the edge of the box. To no surprise, Colt was in the middle of the fray, mouthing off to opposing players but, amazingly, the exchange hadn’t devolved into physical blows.

“I thought they weren’t even supposed to do that,” Ximena wondered. “Don’t they need to declare draft eligibility before they can get scouted?”

“It would be different if they had agents.” Mona rolled her eyes, but Ellie couldn’t even keep up; she didn’t understand the draft rules at all, but the intricacies faded as the reality started crashing in. “They don’t have agents, yet, so the rules are different.”

They continued discussing the convoluted ins-and-outs of the NCAA draft eligibility requirements, but Ellie tuned them out. She knew their paths would diverge after Nationals; she had always known this. Why did it matter if he would go pro and move across the country? For Christ’s sake, they weren’t dating. This had always had an expiration date. She blinked, surprised to find a trail of moisture on her face when she wiped a shaking hand over her cheek. _It didn’t matter._

~~~~~

Colt was in fantastically high spirits as they got back to his room; she eyed him suspiciously. “Don’t you want to go out? Celebrate?”

“What do you mean, go to one of those lame-ass penthouse parties?” He rolled his eyes. “I hate that shit. I want to celebrate here.”

“Ha. Let me guess how you want to celebrate.”

“You wound me.” He pulled the jersey over his head, abs rippling with the motion, and she swallowed. “Fine. Guess.”

She stalked closer. “You, me, and this bed?”

“Close.” His eyes dropped to her lips. “You, me, and the bath.”

“What?” she choked out.

“My muscles are sore. Come on.” She blinked as he walked into the bathroom, standing stock still while her brain struggled to keep up. He wanted... _what_? “Are you coming or not?” he called, voice loud over the roaring faucet, and she shuffled in, no idea what to expect.

He was pulling his shorts off, tossing them in the corner by his shoes, as she walked through the door. “Are you serious?” she huffed.

“Yeah? Obviously.” He settled down, water swirling around him as he settled into place. “Water’s nice.”

She was still confused but, well, it did look comfortable. She pulled her shirt over her head, fully cognizant of the way his attentive stare followed the movement, and tugged the rest of her clothes off as well before balancing her hands on the tub’s edge. “How are we gonna-?”

“Jesus, just come here.” Wet hands found her waist, and he pulled, lifting her over the ceramic side to settle her on top of his chest with a pleased sigh.

The water was nice, warmth easing into her own muscles. Once they were mostly covered, water edging towards her shoulders, she reached a hand back to turn the knob. “No bubbles?” 

“No, dork.” He didn’t even open his eyes to snark at her, just curving an arm around her shoulders to pull her flush against him. “No bubbles.”

Every inch of her was stretched out, her head on his chest, hips meeting his exactly where his cock was twitching, but still he just held her close, damp hands threading through her hair. 

It felt nice. Weird. Domestic.

She lifted her head; Colt had opened his eyes, was looking down at her with a soft expression. It made her heart skip. She had seen him angry, playful, turned on, in situation after situation, but she had never seen him look so... tender? At ease?

She couldn’t bear the reverential gaze, just days before she had to return to Langston, back to her books and formulas and theorem-filled reality and her actual boring life. Water splashed over the side of the tub as she lifted her hand to his chin, pulling him in for a kiss. As his tongue swiped across her lower lip, she screwed her eyes shut, but the thoughtful look on his face still lingered behind her eyelids. Desperately, she deepened the kiss, and he dropped his legs from the blindingly white ceramic to tangle with hers. The only sound was her quiet sighs and the swirling water as his hands ducked under the surface to skate down her curves.

“Ellie?”

“Yeah?” She was out of breath and her hips wouldn’t stop rocking into his.

“I’m ready to celebrate a different way.” He sat up, dragging her with him, to slide out of the water, pulling her with him as his tongue traced the rivulets running down the hollow of her collarbone. Her nails found the damp hair at the back of his head, pulling slightly to feel the groan from his throat. “Come on…” He found her hand and pulled, dragging her out of the bathroom and maneuvering her so, when her back hit the bed, he followed, skin quickly drying with the heat between them.

He couldn’t stop kissing her, moving from her shoulders to her breasts back up her neck in a dizzying array. Her head fell back on the bed as his thumb found her clit; in their week-long Nationals fuck fest, he had become very skilled in finding exactly how to touch her, the pressure, the speed. The indistinct shapes were maddening, her hands grappling to pull him closer, please, _closer_ , when he stopped with a smirk.

“What?” She opened her eyes. “Colt, I was…”

“I know.” He ran a finger down her temple, brushing away a stray hair before it traced further down, barely a tickle as it rounded her breast, lower. “You said I couldn’t be gentle. I can be gentle.”

“What?!? Goddammit, just fuck me.”

He shook his head, water droplets raining down over her chest. The smirk hadn’t left his face. “Nope. I told you. I can be gentle.” His lips followed the path of his hands, feather-light touches, miles from the abrasive player on the court.

“Colt, what?” She gasped as he lined up and slid in, slowly, filling her at his own pace, ignoring the way she pulled at his arms. “Oh my God, _please_. Please!”

“Nope.”

She would have hit him, forced him to move faster, but it felt so good. Their time together had been filled with, well, fucking. But this was different. This wasn’t fucking. This wasn’t just sex.

This was something she didn’t want to give up, even though the end date was barreling ever closer.

_Fuck_.

His lips connected to her neck, lips and teeth slowly working yet another mark onto her skin. She curved a hand into his hair, and she felt his lips stretch into a smile. His hips moved, her head fell back, and he smiled wider.

_Damn_ , he could do gentle, apparently. He could do gentle very well, cock inching inside her, almost delicate, almost patient. Every thrust ended in a slow grind that made her body sing. This wasn’t…

It was lighting up nerve endings she never even knew about, each one pinging one-by-one, sending spark after spark through her limbs, her brain, flares of sensation that made her grip tighter to his forearms.

“Colt…” It was too much. They were supposed to be fuckbuddies, just hooking up, goddammit, but this wasn’t fucking. She wrapped her legs around his waist, trying to pull him closer, move him faster. “Come on, please.”

“Nope. You wanted gentle.” He moved forward, an inch, another, right there, thumb tracing another delicious circle, God. She keened. “Is this gentle enough?” She had no idea how his hands were able to move with such restraint. She had seen him fight, fists hammering until they were bruised and bloody; but now those hands moved carefully down her arm, over her clit, every touch making her hair stand on end.

“P-please,” she stuttered. They weren’t even dating. She had expected him to ravish her against the door or bend her over the desk. She wasn’t prepared for reverence, adoration. Her eyes were watering and her brain wasn’t working fast enough to tease out why.

His laugh was low against her neck and then his lips were trailing lower. His hips moved faster and her breath raced, body heating degree by degree until she was aflame. “Please, more.”

His lips traced back to her ear. “You don’t need to beg,” he crooned. She bit her lip as his hips moved faster; she wrapped her legs tighter, muscles tensing.

_This wasn’t the plan_.

He curved a hand around her jaw, tipping her face up to stare at her. She had always been used to their intensity, the fire that shone through his every move, but this look was almost tender, almost worshipping. It was too much. The sound that left her mouth when she came was half-sob, half-cry, emotion laid bare as her body quaked and mind, finally, went blissfully blank. 

When she could process again, she was wrapped around his chest, his fingers tracing slow circles around her shoulder blades. She felt utterly boneless, mentally wrecked, brain fuzzy and sex-dumb, but her nerves were alight. Their expiration date was in two days and- 

His voice cut through her internal panic. “You know what this means?” His fingertips moved to her ribs, honey slow and sweet, one by one, and Ellie had to take a deep breath to settle her mind.

“What?”

“We’re playing you in the finals.”

“Hmm…” She needed to think, barely managing to shoot back, “You’re going down.”

“We’ll see about that.” He sized her up, lips quirking. “Who are you cheering for?”

“What? What do you mean?”

“You need to cheer for me.”

“What?”

“Just once. Come on, Ellie. One single tiny cheer for me.” The smile played on his lips. “Only one.”

“I can’t!”

“Come. On! I can’t have the girl I’m dating cheer for the opposition!”

She froze. “The what?” Goosebumps broke out over her arms as she shivered. _Did the air conditioning turn on?_

“I can’t have you-”

“Colt, we’re not dating.” 

“What.” He opened his mouth and then closed it again. “What exactly are we doing, then, because you’ve basically been living here for-”

“We’re not dating!” She broke in, pushing off his chest, desperate to make him stop talking. “We hooked up like two times. That’s it.”

“Umm…” He raised an eyebrow. “We hooked up two times today. That’s not counting yesterday, or the day before, or right before the quarterfinals…”

She raked her fingers through her hair and tugged, pinpricks of pain in her scalp filtering through her swirling thoughts. “That doesn’t mean…” She was going back to Langston in two days, she had to go back, but there was nothing she wanted less.

Colt sat up as well; she had to look away from the shifting biceps to pull her racing thoughts into a concrete sentence.

“That doesn’t…” she faltered again. “That doesn’t mean… you’re a basketball player…”

“Ok?”

“.... your school is like two hours away.”

“What, you’re allergic to your phone now?”

“But…”

“It’s not like I’m across the country.” He pulled a hand through his hair.

“I’m not supposed to fraternize with players.”

“Come on, like that stops Ingrid. Or anyone else, for that matter.”

“I…” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I just… I’m busy. With school and cheer and my major is hard…”

“Oh, and I have so much free time?”

“I… this isn’t the plan.”

“What plan?!?”

She opened her mouth and closed it again.

“Fine. Forget I said anything.” His frown made her heart hurt but, before she could interject, his eyes flared, glaring through her as the flame was replaced with ice. “You know what, you’re so busy, you should just go.”

She pulled back, stung. “What?”

“Go back to your room, go study for your difficult major, it’s fine.”

“Colt, I…”

“Go,” he implored, hands shooing her away. “Goodbye.”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her chest hurt and her eyes were stinging, telltale precursor to tears that she desperately wanted to keep inside. She raced to the bathroom, grabbing her clothes and throwing them on in a panic. _She had to get out of this room before-_

“Bye, Ellie.”

His voice was cold behind her but she didn’t care because she was fiddling with the doorknob but it was difficult because everything was blurry and then she was out, rushing down the hall and down the stairs and then she couldn’t see anything, clinging to the railing as water filled her eyes and blurred her vision.

It took her 15 minutes to stumble down the two flights of stairs, death grip on the railing the entire way.

And when she walked into her room, Ingrid’s ‘told you so’ died on her lips. She sprang up from her bed to envelope Ellie in a warm hug as the tears finally poured out.

.


	4. Chapter 4

Ellie told herself she would _not_ think about it.

She would study, cram, finally understand the driving force between enthalpically-driven reactions, and get her entire life back on track.

At least that’s what she told herself.

But somehow time passed and she moped and she never truly understood organic chemistry. Instead, she could only recall a different type of chemistry, far removed from textbooks and lecture halls. However, like during labs, if the reactants went bad or if she made one wrong move, it all exploded, flames bursting out of flasks and bunsen burners until she had to leap back, fire licking at her eyebrows.

But this explosion was worse. Instead of singed hair, everything ached, with the gaping hole in her heart worst of all, throbbing incessantly, pain making it impossible to study or sleep or think.

Even during team practice, her limbs were unsteady, heavy. She didn’t look like someone who was preparing for an appearance on national television. She didn’t feel like someone who was practicing for the biggest halftime show of her life.

She felt like someone who had no clue what way was up... or which way her life was going.

She knew she shouldn’t look for him before the final game but, regardless of how hard she tried to stay focused on anything else, her eyes found the court, searching every single red-and-gold jersey running by or shooting layups. None were him.

The stadium was filling, fans filing into the seats, chatter and excitement echoing off the parquet floor. She tuned it out and stretched, getting ready for the start of the game and the most important performance of her life; the plod of feet and squeak of sneakers made their way over, stopping at her side. Ellie didn’t look up at the shadow that fell over her outstretched leg. Her quads were tight, and she needed to-

“What happened, Ellie?”

She glanced up and gasped. “What the hell happened to you?”

“What does it look like?” Logan’s smile was chagrined, a stark comparison to the massive shiner that darkened the skin around his left eye. “Kaneko’s violence-free streak ended.”

“He punched you?!?”

“We had a... disagreement.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Hey, I gave as good as I got.”

“He needs freaking anger management.”

“Ha. He’s in anger management. Coach has had him going since he started with the team.” Logan dropped to the ground next to her, wincing as his weight fell on his hand before sinking fully to the court. “You were doing a hell of a lot better than the clowns in there, though.”

She studied the floor. Colt wasn’t her problem anymore.

“You guys break up?”

“We were never _together_. We were…” She took a deep breath. “We were just hooking up.”

“Ha. Really.”

“Yeah,” she chided. “Really” 

“That’s bullshit and you know it. Colt doesn’t do anything by half. It’s never ‘just’ with him.”

“It was never gonna work. I know how you basketball players are-”

“Hey!”

She continued as if he had never spoken, talking fast as if speed of speech directly correlated with the strength of conviction. “We were hooking up... and now we’re not.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why aren’t you hooking up anymore?” Logan looked curious, sprawled next to her.

“Jesus, is this really everyone’s business?”

“I’m-”

“Why does it even matter?!? He’s some massive basketball talent who is gonna move to Utah and what about me then?”

“Uhh, ok. ... what about you then?”

“I’m not fucking moving to Utah! I’m top of my class and I want to go to grad school and it was never gonna work anyway so there’s no point in dragging it out-”

“Uhh…” Logan’s mouth dropped, shocked and befuddled and concerned, but she was too far gone to stop now.

“And all you basketball players are the same-”

“Hey! I resent-”

“So this meant nothing to him and I’m sure he can find another fan to hookup with and I think...”

A heavy hand on her shoulder made her stop; she blinked the world back into focus. “You done?”

“I can keep going.”

“Dear God, please don’t,” he begged. She chuckled despite herself as Logan exhaled deeply through pursed lips. “There is so much to unpack there that I don’t even know where to begin. How the hell- did he talk to you about the Jazz?”

She inspected her hands. “No. I... the scout was in the box at the semifinals.”

“Yeah... Colt hates that guy. We both do, actually, one of the very few things in this world we agree on. There is no way in hell he’s signing with the Jazz. I don’t think he’s signing with anyone right now.”

“No?” She blinked at him.

“I mean, his mom is on his ass to finish school but... isn’t this something you should talk to him about?”

She shrugged. “It didn’t seem worth it. The entire thing meant nothing, so, why bother?”

“Ellie, he gave you his box ticket. He never has anyone cheering for him up there.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“No, really,” he protested. “I mean, you know the guy. I’m not sure his antisocial behavior has given him a rabid fan base.” She looked down at the ground, turning Ingrid’s warning and Logan’s words over in her head. Finally, he interrupted her seizing brain. “But what do you want?”

“Huh?” She blinked at him.

“You’ve gone on and on about Utah and him being some big name basketball star but you never really said anything about what you want.”

She blinked again. _What was he talking about?_ “I want... I have a _plan_.” She gnawed on a thumbnail. “I’m going to graduate summa cum laude, hell, valedictorian unless Ingrid beats me. I’m gonna get into the best PhD program in the US and I’m gonna complete my post-doc in the new mechanics lab that is gonna open up back home and-”

“I’m hearing a lot about what you’re gonna do.” He stood, lifting a long arm over his head to stretch his trapezius. “But I’m not hearing anything about what you want to do.”

“I…” She squinted through the arena lights to stare at him. “I…”

“I also don’t know where in your plan it says you can’t date. That sounds ridiculous.” He shook out his arms, and she watched intently, cataloguing the motion while her mind whirled. _What did she want_? She wanted to be valedictorian. She wanted to get her PhD. She also wanted to wake up next to a confrontational basketball player who threw himself into everything he did with a fire that only tempered with her. “You’re smart and something tells me you fight like hell to get what you want. Why can’t you have both?”

“You know what, Logan?” 

“What? You gonna tell me I’m right?”

“No, I’m gonna tell you that the pain in your left hand is from an undiagnosed sprain in your pronator quadratus and you need a wrist brace.”

“What the-?” She didn’t answer, only stood and stormed away, leaving him staring at his wrist in shock.

But when she flounced into her seat on the sidelines, she couldn’t stop turning his words over and over in her head.

~~~~~

“Let’s go, Langston,” Ellie shouted, cheering perfectly in time with her teammates, “let’s go!” She waved her pompoms in the air with a practiced grin, completing their timeout routine perfectly even though her mind was miles away.

She tried to focus on the game to distract herself from Logan’s words, but it was impossible. Besides, the game wasn’t much to focus on anyway: it was a _catastrophe_. She glanced at the scoreboard again, wincing as it showed Langston was winning by 11, and then immediately berated herself. She was a Langston cheerleader, for crying out loud; she wanted Langston to win. _Didn’t she?_

Her eyes cut to Colt, and she felt her gaze soften. He was having the worst game she had ever seen. He had scored two points all half, missing at least seven easy layups, and turning over the ball so many times even Ingrid wondered aloud who he wanted to win. And then, the worse he played, the angrier he got, earning a technical foul for a chippy elbow and getting into a furious argument with his Coach on the sidelines.

He did not look like a future pro. 

He looked like someone who was having the shittiest day of his life.

Ellie swallowed as the clock counted down to halftime. It wasn’t like she was having an exceptional day either.

When both teams stood to head to their respective locker rooms, she tried to catch his eye as she walked to half court for her cheer performance. He pointedly avoided looking her way, head down dejectedly.

Her heart cracked open in her chest. _What did she want?_

This routine would be broadcast nationally. Her dad was watching, eyes peeled for a shot of her on live tv; Riya and Darius were probably doing the same at university. This was the biggest show she would likely ever perform in.

And she barely registered a flip. 

As soon as her sneakers hit the sideline, she took off, pleading with the coach for a break, and then booked it, flying down hallways and flashing her cheer pass to security until she found the locker room. The door was closed but there was yelling, bitter screaming, the Coach shrill and loud, trying to rein in the shouts. She could just make out Logan and Colt, hollering over each other, the slam of a locker, a massive thump, and the door flew open, Logan and Colt grappling as they pushed through into the silent hall.

“Maybe if you got your head in the game-“

“Maybe if you got your head out of your ass-“

Logan saw her first, shoulders dropping in relief. “Oh thank God, you’re here. You deal with him.”

“What are you-” Colt spun and his jaw dropped as he saw her. Her heart fell; the fury on his face, paired with the bruise angry against his jawline, was intimidating, foreboding. “The fuck do you want?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“I think you’ve done enough talking.” He turned to follow Logan back into the locker room and she couldn’t, she had to-

“Wait,” she pleaded, wringing her hands in front of her. “Please, just wait.”

He stopped, turning back around to study her with guarded eyes. “What?”

“I…” She had to glance away, unable to bear the coldness in his stare. “I’m sorry.”

“Great-”

“No. Let me…” Tears were pricking at her eyes and she blinked furiously, willing them back. “I got into my head that this meant nothing, that we meant nothing, and-”

“We mean nothing, ok, so-”

“Let me talk!” She finally looked at him, trying to keep the tears from her eyes, tremor from her pleading. “Please,” she lowered her voice. “Let me talk.”

“... Fine.”

“I thought... You have a freaking ESPN bio and there’s talk of you going pro and I... I figured that this was a fling. That... that you just wanted to hook up. And, at first, I was ok with it; I’m focused on school and I guess I didn’t want to even entertain the hope that it was something more. But then your friend convinced me I should consider what I wanted, not what I assumed.”

“What? Who? What friend?”

“... Logan?”

“What?” Colt’s jaw dropped in disgust. “We aren’t friends! Logan is a goddamn idiot who-”

“I think you’re missing the point.”

He stopped mid spiel to cross his arms over his chest. “What’s the point?”

“That I never stopped to think about what I wanted. I was only following my plan, and doing what I was supposed to do, and I never really thought about what I wanted… or who I wanted. Colt, I don’t want to follow my old plan. I don’t want to go back to my life the way it was before.”

“Well, what do you want?”

“You.”

“Ha.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

“I do.” She took a deep breath. “Colt. You’re tough. You don’t take my shit. You have high expectations of others, but you expect perfection from yourself. You’re smart and you don’t let anyone stand in your way.” She held her breath.

“... You sound like a fucking fortune cookie.” He ducked his head, but she could barely see the hint of an abashed smile. She exhaled as her lips spread into her own grin. “I thought you were too busy for me.”

“I ran down here after the biggest show of my cheer season. I can make time for you.” She stepped closer. “Logan convinced me that maybe I can have what I want, too. Maybe I can have both...”

“I’m not going to fucking thank him.”

“I would _definitely_ not expect you to.”

He smirked, rocking back on his heels. “So how’s this gonna work?”

“I have a phone.” Her lips twitched, breaking further into a smile that she couldn’t quash. “We’re only two hours apart.”

“I dunno.” She felt her heart drop until she caught the way his eyes shone in the hallway light. “You dumped me, remember?”

“What-”

“You’re gonna have to make it up to me.” He shrugged.

“Oh, for crying out, l-”

“I’m thinking post-game massages, nude, of course.” He contemplated the ceiling, considering. “Some really good incentives for solid play and, when we win, definitely some-”

She didn’t let him finish his inane list, jumping across the hall to throw her hands around his neck and kiss him, desperately, their lips meeting eagerly as she sighed relief and joy into the curve of his smile. His hands traced the waistband of her skirt until they reached the small of her back, pulling her forward so they were even closer, bodies colliding, his fingertips catching under her blue-and-white uniform while her fingers twined into red-and-gold. Just when her lungs ached for breath, he pulled back.

“I knew you liked me.”

She swatted his chest and groaned. “Oh my god, does your narcissism know no bounds?”

“Am I wrong?”

She gazed up at him. “Not wrong.”

She was about to kiss him again when the door to the locker room burst open again, slam echoing down the dull concrete walls as Logan ducked his head out. “Yo, Kaneko, we need you in here. Coach is drawing up some insane new play where he is relying on Toby to shoot threes out of a pick-and-roll.”

“Oh Lord. I gotta-”

“Wait,” she interjected, pulling Colt closer by his jersey. “You wanted to impress me, right?”

“As if the week when you were holed up in my room didn’t-”

“Shut up. You want to impress me?”

His eyes softened, fingers tracing the strip of bare skin above her skirt. “Always.”

“Win,” she said. “Win Nationals. _Win_.”

He ducked his head to kiss her again, greedily stealing breath from her lungs before he pulled away, turning towards the door. “Done.” And with that, he was gone.

~~~~~

It was a different game, a different universe, when the whistle blew again.

Whereas Langston owned the first half, draining shot after shot, the tide had turned. Colt had seemingly stolen the magic from them-he was everywhere, stealing a pass off the fingertips of one player, blocking a three-pointer from another. 

She watched, incredulous, as they started coming back, slowly, Langston growing weary and tired as the game continued, Colt only playing harder as the third quarter melted into the fourth and his team battled back, carving away at the Langston lead until they were only down by one point with less than a minute to play.

Ingrid shook next to her, nerves and excitement vibrating the pom-poms in her hands, but Ellie could only think in terms of numbers. They needed two more points, one more basket to take the lead, and then they could run out the clock and win. She bit her lip as Logan in-bounded the ball to Colt and he breezed down the court, rubber of his soles squeaking against the court as he passed half court.

She bounced on her toes. _This is it._

She watched, transfixed, as the ball moved like lightning around the court-Colt flipped it to Logan, a foot outside the paint, but a sea of blue jerseys met him head-on. He bounced it back to Colt and her breath caught as he leapt, ball cradled in outstretched arms for a jump shot, feet leaving the parquet and eyes trained on the rim. 

He hung, suspended in midair, as the arena collectively gasped; right as the ball was about to leave his fingertips, a blue jersey slammed into him, arms flailing, chest flying, both players slamming to the floor as whistles screamed and the crowd started shouting.

_Oh my God._

Colt went down like a rock, so hard he bounced, landing on his side twice. Ellie winced, but he was up like a shot: she just caught the fury in his eyes before he spun at his opponent, hands balling into fists.

_No_. She glanced at the clock. They were still down by one with 5 seconds on the clock and if Colt got a technical foul now? _No no no no._

He stepped closer to the Langston player, shoulders tensing. She saw his fingers tighten, bicep tense, fist cock back in slow motion; she leapt to her feet. “Stop!” she screeched, praying he made out her voice over the yelling, the hungry crowd screaming for a fight. “Colt, STOP!”

Miraculously, he froze, arm hanging in the air, hand clenched; she let out the breath she was holding as he dropped his fist and spun to look across the court, eyes finding hers. She shook her head frantically, pointing at the scoreboard, and it was almost like he heard her silent prayer. He took a breath, then another, eyes locked with her the entire time, and then her legs buckled and she slid to the ground. _It was enough_. His teammates had arrived, rushing over to interrupt the fight, a sea of red jerseys swarming him, pulling him away from the Langston blues and the brewing brawl.

“What… Ellie, what are you doing? Wrong team!” Ingrid hissed.

Ellie exhaled, his eyes still locked on him, her gaze following him as he was pulled to the free throw line. She didn’t even respond, only watched, pom-poms hiding her crossed fingers, as he stood at the line, dribbling slowly. The entire arena was frozen, waiting, holding their breath. Closing her eyes, she gave a silent plea to any deity that was listening. 

She heard motion, Ingrid’s gasp, the swish of the net, a raucous cheer from the stands. He made the shot. _One point._ She opened her eyes with a smile. “Come on, Colt!” she shouted, flinching when Ingrid elbowed her.

“Wait a minute! Was that… You two? Seriously?!?” Ingrid gaped.

“Come on, Ingrid. Shut up.”

Colt looked over to their sideline, ball securely in his hands, waiting for his second shot. She stared back, mouthing ‘Good luck!’ He only raised his eyebrows, waiting for something; she groaned, shoulders falling when she realized what he wanted. He waited. 

She raised a pom-pom halfheartedly. 

He shook his head.

She groaned again, catching the smile on his face before she raised her hand higher and yelled, “Go Colt!” 

Finally appeased, he winked, then pursed his lips in a quick kiss her way before turning back to the hoop, 15 feet from him.

Ellie desperately wanted to shut her eyes but she couldn’t, wouldn’t look away. He bounced the ball, twice, echo thundering in the silent arena, eerie with only the flash of hundreds of cameras, aiming right at him. Every single seat filled but silent, every single person waiting, desperately.

Ellie couldn’t breathe.

He bounced the ball again, one last thundering knock, and he raised his hands, exactly how he taught her. Knees bent, aiming at the front of the rim, pushing the ball off his fingertips, following through with his right hand. The ball soared in a graceful, gentle arc, before falling through the netting.

She leapt to her feet, screaming. Ingrid pulled at her legs, trying to get her to sit, but she didn’t care; she couldn’t stop the high-pitched noise, the howl, the deafening screech being pulled from her lungs.

Langston in-bounded the ball, but there wasn’t much time, passing it up up-court. They didn’t even make it halfway, timer ticking down, only one second to go, and their center heaved the ball but it didn’t even matter because it bounced harmlessly into the crowd and she was sprinting onto the court as fast as her cheer shoes would carry her.

Fans were streaming down the bleachers, screaming and bouncing, camera crews grappling for the best shot, but it didn’t matter as she jumped into Colt’s arms, giddy laughter mushed into his cheek as he spun her around.

“You won!! _Ohmygod_ , you actually won!”

He carefully lowered her so she touched the floor.

“I know.”

“Holy crap!”

“Well…” He smirked. “Did I impress you?”

“Oh, for crying out loud.” She wanted to punch the smirk off his face but contented herself in reaching up to brush a stray piece of confetti off his eyebrow. 

“What? Do I get that kiss now?”

“Oh my God! Just shut up and kiss me.”

And, with the roaring of the crowd in her ears, the confetti falling into her hair, the pulse of flashing cameras lighting up her face, he did.


End file.
